


Sanctuary

by lilacsigil



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-07
Updated: 2006-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsigil/pseuds/lilacsigil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millicent is paying a lot of attention to Hermione – of the bad kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Inell).



At the age of seven, Hermione had joined the Brownies. It was difficult to fit in with all her other activities, but she had enjoyed the chance to learn skills she would never have encountered otherwise. She would have loved to go on to Girl Guides – the Wizarding World didn't seem to have an equivalent – and some of her old skills stayed with her. First Aid was an important one, and being able to light a fire without a wand. She had never been very good at the more adventurous skills, though, no matter how she tried. The games where someone would hide, or sneak up on other Brownies had not been her strong point, and she was glad that teams were assembled, not chosen as they were at school.

It was people like Harry who had danger instincts, knowing when to duck or hide. Hermione didn't, but even so, she was sure that someone was following her. Therefore, she surmised, they were either very bad at it, or wanted to be caught. She stopped in the deserted hallway that ran from gate by the lake up to the Gryffindor tower.

"Ron, is that you? I know you're there."

There was dead silence. Hermione took the opportunity to put her hand on her wand: there was not supposed to be real danger inside the walls of Hogwarts, but that hadn't stopped Professor Quirrell, or a basilisk, or even Sirius Black. Even worse, she had a large number of fake Galleons tucked into her bag, ready to become communication devices for the DA. Fred and George had sourced them for her and hidden them on the grounds until she was ready with her Protean Charm. She had no idea whether fake Galleons were illegal, but she certainly didn't want Umbridge to catch her with them.

A shuffling noise came from around the corner, and Hermione edged backwards.

"Look, I know you're there. Just come out!"

Much to Hermione's surprise, it was the hulking form of Millicent Bulstrode who emerged from the shadows.

"What do you want, Bulstrode?"

Millicent stomped towards Hermione.

"Yeah, Granger, that's what I'm asking you."

Before Hermione could work out exactly what Millicent meant, the girl's meaty hand was around Hermione's wrist.

"Let go! I'm a prefect, Bulstrode. I don't want to have to deduct points from Slytherin."

"Yeah, well, so's my friend Malfoy," she said loudly, to trump Hermione's claim. "I can get him to deduct points any time I like!"

Hermione sighed.

"I'm just going back to Gryffindor Tower. There's nothing in the rules about that."

"You're near the Slytherin tunnels. I saw you."

"Millicent!" Hermione emphasised the name. "You're being ridiculous. I was out by the lake, and now I'm going back to my common room." Hermione was starting to be both annoyed and worried – Millicent wasn't bright, but she was persistent, and Hermione really didn't want to be hauled up to Umbridge's office on a vague suspicion.

Millicent stared at her for a moment, then roughly shoved her to the ground.

"Go away, then! Go back to your dumb Tower and leave me alone!" Millicent's face contorted in rage, and she stomped back down the corridor, leaving Hermione sprawled on the floor.

Hermione picked herself up and dusted some powdery mould off her robes in some confusion. She was thankful for the reprieve, but why on earth would Millicent Bulstrode be telling Hermione to leave her alone? It had always been Millicent who had pinched, poked, shoved and occasionally wrestled Hermione. Hermione was much too scared to approach Millicent without a good number of Gryffindors alongside.

Hermione scuttled back to the safety of her common room as quickly as she could without breaking the rule about running in the corridors. The day had been strange enough already without having to dock House points from herself.

 

The next time Hermione ran into Millicent was the following Saturday, at the Quidditch match. Most of the school was desperate to see Gryffindor wipe the smirks off the Slytherins' faces, though there were more than a few students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who were boycotting the whole thing on the grounds that the match was disrupting school harmony. Hermione, personally, thought that things were going a little too far when students were avoiding both the Gryffindors and Slytherins for fear of attracting a hex, but she doubted that the protesting students would be absent when it was their own House teams playing. She and Ginny had made bundles of rosettes in red and gold and handed them out to anyone who was looking less than enthusiastic, and Hermione's newfound knitting skills had come in handy to make herself, Ginny and a few chilly first-years warm Gryffindor scarves.

Hermione was walking into the stands with Ginny when she was suddenly jerked backwards by the trailing ends of her long scarf. She put her hands out behind her, expecting to fall on her bottom in the frozen slush, but instead she was slammed into a warm wall of humanity – Millicent Bulstrode.

"Gotcha good that time," Millicent smirked, holding Hermione tightly against her body by the scarf. Hermione wriggled desperately, her toes barely touching the ground, but couldn't get free from the strangling grip. She kicked at Millicent's large knee, but it seemed to have no effect.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement by Hermione's side, and Hermione was immensely relieved to catch a glimpse of Ginny's bright hair. Millicent shrieked and dropped Hermione into churned-up patch of icy mud.

"You shouldn't have done that," Millicent bellowed at Ginny, who seemed entirely unafraid. "I wasn't going to hurt her!"

"That's not what it looked like to me," Ginny yelled back, her wand out and ready.

"Well, I wasn't!" Millicent turned her back and ran through the crowd towards the Slytherin stands, scattering smaller students as she went.

Ginny helped Hermione back to her feet and quickly performed a Drying charm on the back of Hermione's damp robes before they froze.

"Thanks, Ginny." Hermione loosened her scarf where it was now digging into her neck, and wriggled a little as the Drying charm released a small cloud of steam. "I wish she'd stop doing that."

"Follows you around a lot, does she?" Ginny raised her eyebrows in that annoying way that she had.

"What do you mean?"

"I think she likes you."

"Ginny! Don't be ridiculous! She just tried to strangle me at a Quidditch match. If she liked me, she'd, I don't know, write me a note or something. Not attack me."

"Whatever you say, Hermione." Ginny still looked smug, so Hermione stopped arguing – Ginny was the most stubborn person Hermione had ever met, including herself – and instead pushed up into the stands, ruthlessly abusing her Prefect status to make sure they had good seats.

 

The next morning at breakfast, a folded piece of paper drifted across the hall, flitted over Hermione's shoulder and landed in her oatmeal. She fished the pale green, floral paper out and looked back across the hall to see where it came from.

"Ron? Did you see who sent this across?" she asked, as Ron was sitting across from her, facing the rest of the hall.

Ron shook his head, his mouth stuffed with bacon and toast, and swept his arm out to encompass the entire hall, nearly knocking over Harry's pumpkin juice. He was right. It could have been anyone from the other three tables.

"Harry?"

"It was probably a Slytherin. It might be jinxed!"

"Oh, Harry, why would someone be sending me a jinxed letter?" Hermione tutted, but she still tapped her wand on the note. "Specialis Revelio!"

The note flipped over and glowed slightly.

"See!" Harry said, triumphantly.

"Harry, that's not a harmful spell." Hermione leant closer to the note. "I think it's a perfuming spell. Hm. Smells nice."

"Is someone sending you love notes?" Ron was suddenly more interested in the conversation than in his breakfast.

"Well, if they are, they've chosen very girly notepaper," said Hermione with some scorn, tucking the note into her pocket.

"Oh yeah." Ron gestured vaguely with his fork and got back to his toast.

Later that morning, while doing her Arithmancy revision and ignoring the boys re-enacting yesterday's Quidditch match, Hermione pulled out the note. It was written on pretty, scented notepaper that Hermione was sure she'd seen Pansy Parkinson use, but the writing was large and blobby, nothing like Parkinson's. The note read:

Dear Hermony

Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
You are nice  
And I am to.

M.

Hermione let her head fall to the desk with a loud thunk. The note was from Millicent Bulstrode. She must have been listening in on the conversation with Ginny. And now she had sent Hermione a note.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, looking over from his re-enactment of being attacked by a Bludger.

"I need to talk to Ginny." Hermione slammed her textbook closed, stood up, and pulled Ginny out of a group of people practising Cheering Charms around the fireplace.

"Look at this!" Hermione hissed, shoving the note into Ginny's hand.

"Wow. She really does like you!"

"Ginny, she attacks me!"

"Didn't a boy ever like you when you were little? He'd throw things at you, and pull your hair."

"No! That's ridiculous! Why can't people just be rational about these things? Viktor was perfectly rational. Oh, don't you look at me like that!" she added, catching Ginny's look, which was a perfect copy of Mrs Weasley's patented I-Told-You-So. "We write to each other."

"And look!" Ginny waved the note under Hermione's nose, releasing more of its delicate floral perfume. "Now you've got another penpal!"

"Ginny, be serious. I can't believe she's got a crush on me."

"When all she tries to do is crush you? The word had to originate somewhere. Go and talk to her."

Hermione looked horrified.

"No, really, Hermione, talk to her. It won't make her worse, and it might even give her a bit of an outlet. It's not like she's used to expressing herself."

"All right. I'll try it. Somewhere public, like the library, so she can't kill me and hide the corpse without people noticing."

"That's the spirit! I'll wait nearby, in case she muffles your screams!" Ginny grinned, but Hermione didn't really feel too comforted.

 

It was easy enough for Hermione to send a return note to Millicent at lunch – though there was a heart-stopping moment when Crabbe, seated beside her, nearly caught it instead – and arrange to meet in the rarely visited Magical Arts and Crafts section, among the oversized books about fretwork warding and mobile macrame. Ginny was stationed nearby in case of any problems, though she had assured Hermione at length that she wouldn't be needed.

"Just in case, then," Hermione said, with a dubious look on her face as she left Ginny on the other side of the shelves and ventured as boldly as she could into the dimly-lit section.

Millicent was already there, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Hermione was amazed – she'd never seen Millicent Bulstrode look anything less than confident, except when she was called on in class.

"Hi." Hermione's voice didn't come out at all how she intended, and instead sounded small and squeaky.

"Did you like my poem?" Millicent's voice, too, was small.

"No-one's ever written me a poem before." This was entirely true, although Hermione didn't add that Millicent's misspelt offering was barely a poem at all. "But I don't understand why you keep following me, and hurting me. If you like me, that is."

Millicent shuffled her large feet again.

"I just – you're nice. And really smart. And you don't care that you're a mudblood."

"Muggle-born," Hermione corrected, crossly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I mean muggle-born. And you're brave. If I was you, I'd be scared of everything, but you aren't scared at all."

"Why would you be scared, if you were me?"

"I'm big. People are scared of me. It makes me feel safe. Even my friends are a bit scared. They watch me."

"No wonder, if you strangle the people you like with their scarves."

"You're not scared of me, though. Just cross."

"You like me because I'm cross with you?"

"No. See? I can't even say it right."

She reached out her hand. Hermione pulled back warily, but Millicent didn't move to attack her. She just reached out a little further and took Hermione's ink-stained hand in hers, quite gently.

"I can't explain stuff. I just – " Millicent gestured outwards with Hermione's hand. "I just feel it."

Hermione looked up at Millicent's puzzled face. She looked much less aggressive than she usually did. Honesty suited her.

"Millicent. I don't really know you. I suppose I've just seen you as a Slytherin. An enemy. I didn't know you felt things like this. You don't show it."

"People laugh."

Hermione scowled fiercely, then abruptly pulled her hand free and put her arms around Millicent, resting her face on the broad shoulder that was just at her head height. Millicent froze for a moment, then completed the embrace, her arms strong against Hermione's back. They stood together, their bodies close, and Millicent gently stroked Hermione's unruly hair.

"Millicent, I don't know if I can be your friend. Not like this. Not with Umbridge running the place, and all your friends encouraging her."

Millicent shrugged.

"I don't want to skip around the corridors holding hands with you. I just want – just sometimes – maybe I could be here with you?"

The uncertainty in Millicent's usually belligerent voice rushed through Hermione like a wave, and she stretched up on tiptoes to kiss Millicent's cheek.

"I think I'd like that."


End file.
